Dark Corners of the Earth: Rise of Cthulhu
by Dunedan
Summary: Devastated by the death of Jack Walters, his partner Derek Carters must delve deep beyond the realm of human imagination to discover the details behind his friends death by traversing forgotten realms of the Earth challenging horrors, aliens, and Gods
1. Chapter 1

**I noticed there were no Call of Cthulhu: Dark Corners of the Earth Fan fictions, though a seldom-heard-of game, I believe its immersive storyline and interesting characters deserve at least one, I hope you enjoy =)**

**1915 Boston, Massachusetts **

The firefight had broken out with horrifying intensity, already two officers of the Boston Police department were dead, however the mad cultists who had begun the barrage of death weren't faring any better, the officers arriving as reinforcements holding at least three confirmed kills.

Officer Frank Mitchell and Derek Carter were the sole-surviving officers who had originally arrived on-scene with fellow officer Jack Walters, who had vanished into the house moments before the shoot out started.

Ducking quickly Derek narrowly avoided several shells pelting the hardened bricks surrounding the main gate, quickly emptying his revolver into the window where the shots had originated.

"Where the hell did Jack go?" Derek shouted to Frank, who was taking cover across the yard behind a statue. "I thought these guys wanted to talk?"

"Hell if I know!" he shouted, firing several shots wildly towards the window. "Damn fool went in after their leader Holt right before they started shooting!"

It was thanks to Jack Walters that Derek had been able to climb the ranks of the Boston Police Department, acting as a father-like mentor and putting in good words when he needed it. There was no way Derek was leaving Jack inside for dead.

Crouching down Derek rushed out from behind the gate, taking careful aim at the window hiding the skilled shooter, he waited patiently.

It didn't take long, the gunman appeared at the window holding his annoying shotgun, he didn't have time to take aim before Derek left three shells in his chest.

"Go!" Frank shouted seeing the opening. "Find Jack, more officers are on the way, we'll be fine!"

Derek only responded with a nod, running out he darted for the side door where Jack had entered, it was still unlocked.

Whatever the cultist freaks were into Derek imagined it was weird stuff, the walls were covered with portraits and paintings of horrific monsters, alien creatures, and strange eye symbols he couldn't make heads or tails of.

"Jack….JACK!" he shouted as he made his way through the dilapidated mansion this Cult of Yith had called their home.

Derek wasn't sure what made him look there, but a strange bookcase drew his attention, upon further investigation he noticed a trapdoor hidden behind it.

As Derek lifted the ancient door a hand shot out, nearly giving him a heart attack despite being only twenty years old.

"Jack!" he cried, pulling his old friend up onto the ground. Despite having just nearly strangled him to death, it almost appeared as if Jack were…unconscious.

In an instant Jack's eyes shot open, turning to look right at Derek.

Even Derek's awe at his mentor could not bring him to continue to cradle Jack's form as he opened his mouth. The inhuman wail echoed throughout the mansion, Derek dropped Jack's body, backing up into the shelf behind him.

"In God's name Jack…what the hell happened to you?!"

**Six Years Later**

Derek sat at the desk, which was his while he ran the detective agency. It had been six years since Jack had suddenly lost his mind, being sent to the nearby Arkham Asylum with a severe case of schizophrenia. After being released he vanished until only five months earlier, not remembering a thing during his time missing, in hopes of easing his friends transition back to normal life Derek quit the Boston Police Department, opening a joint Detective Agency.

The last week and a half Jack had been away, called in for a case to some town named Innsmouth. Derek had never heard of it before Arthur Anderson, founder of the First National Grocery Store, called him in to find a missing clerk Brian Burnham.

Jack had insisted on going alone, assuring Derek that it would be a quick job, two days tops.

It was another slow rainy day at the office, Derek had started to get more than a little worried at Jack's week-long absence, however his disappearance was about to be revealed.

The phone rang, Derek answered absentmindedly, putting away the ancient cult texts he had found gathered from Jack's unknown six year travels.

"Walter's Detective Agency, Carters speaking," he answered as he always did for the rare phone calls.

"Good evening Mr. Carters," an elderly voice replied. "Are you the Derek Carters who is an associate of Jack Walters?"

Derek perked up at this mention, "Yes I am he, but he's been out for the past week on a case."

"I am afraid he has not Mr. Carters, five days ago he was admitted here to Arkham Asylum."

"What?" Derek shouted, leaping to his feet angrily. "He was deemed cured five months ago, what the hell happened? I'll be right down there to see him."

"Didn't you get my package Mr. Carters?"

"Package?" Glancing around the disheveled office Derek spotted a small package, marked at having been delivered the previous day.

"I got it," he answered over the phone, opening the package as he spoke. "What is it?"

"All of Mr. Walters' possessions, he has no family so it took some time to find you, it seems you were the only one close to Mr. Walters."

Finally opening the last flap on the tightly bound package Derek could see the contents. Sitting on top was a heavily bound journal with the initials J.P.W, Jack P. Walters.

"Why did you send me his diary?" Derek flipped through his old friend's most cherished possession.

"I'm sorry to tell you this Mr. Carters…Jack Walters is dead, hung himself only three days ago…I am very sorry for your loss...Mr. Carters?"

Derek had stopped listening at the news, allowing the receiver to fall to the ground, eyes locked on the final page of his late-colleagues journal, unable to stop his shaking hands and heavy breathing.

"I now walk in the shadows between worlds…and it is there I have finally glimpsed what lies in the dark corners of the earth…"

"Jack…what the hell happened to you in that god-forsaken town?..."

**Just a quick prologue to what I hope to be a much longer tale continuing the case left open by Jack Walters. I hope many fans of the game enjoy this, Based on the video game based of the ingenius H.P. Lovecraft. =)**


	2. Return to Innsmouth

**Chapter 2 up, Derek begins his journey to discover Jack's fate, terror and mayhem await him….I hope you enjoy it.**

The car rattled through the pouring rain as Derek strained his eyes to see past the soaking windshield, Jack's diary open on the neighboring seat.

The drive was a long one to the New England town of Innsmouth, before his hasty departure from the Asylum Derek had read up on as much of the town as he could find which wasn't much as it appeared that they had cut off all ties with the rest of the world around 1847, over seventy years earlier.

As expected the doctors at the asylum hadn't been much help, knowing little about Jack's condition aside from his "delirious ramblings." He had been admitted only three days after setting out on the case to find Brian Burnham by, according to the doctors, the FBI themselves, rambling about monsters and everything not being as it should be.

Seeing the state of Jack's room had unnerved Derek to say the least, the bed looked as if it hadn't been slept in during Jack's week-long stay, flies and gnats buzzed everywhere. The reason for their presence seemed to be due to the numerous symbols and markings drawn throughout the room…all of which in Jack's own blood. The overturned chair where Jack had hung himself remained, being untouched by the staff out of fear of the terrible symbols, as Derek left he glanced over a particular eye-shaped symbol on the ground, gaining a nagging sense of déjà vu.

After learning all he could Derek bid a polite farewell to the doctor and left the asylum, whereupon he promptly vomited.

With nowhere else to turn Derek had chosen to seek the truth out himself, packing up all he felt was necessary, and a fully loaded revolver for good measure, he set out towards the forgotten fishing town.

Despite knowing directions from Arthur Andersons first phone call, Derek had great difficulty finding the right stretches of road to follow, finally being forced to drive cross-country, the thickness of the surrounding forest growing as he drew nearer.

"Why did we need to receive that call?" Derek mused, yelling at himself as he often did when having no one else around. "Any other detective agency could have…or even the police, but no…maybe dad was right, maybe our family is curs…"

The stationary headlights ahead caught Derek's eye, interrupting him mid-thought, a single man stood out waving his arms to stop.

"Is there a problem here?" Derek asked, slowing to a stop. He hadn't noticed until the man approached that he was a soldier in the army, decked out in full attire and heavily armed with several pistols as well as a rifle slung over his shoulder.

He appeared young, couldn't have been older than twenty, however his face showed signs of heavy wrinkles around his eyes, which remained wide open, as if he could not bring himself to go to sleep.

"What's your business here?" he asked, laying his hand on the butt of his rifle. "What's your name?"

"My name is Derek Carter, I'm here looking for my associate Jack Walters, what business does the army have in Innsmouth?"

"That is none of your concern!" the boy snapped, his face contorting into a vision of insanity and unrefined anger for a brief moment, before reverting back to a guilt-stricken sense of normalcy. "B-But if you knew Mr. Walters, then follow me sir, I'll show you to the command tent."

Leading the way in his army truck, Derek followed the young private through the dilapidated roads of Innsmouth. The town looked as if it had been the site of a second world war, bullet holes riddled the buildings, soldiers packed the streets checking houses and carrying off wounded, dead and dying soldiers and civilians, it was all Derek could do to prevent himself from vomiting again.

"Jack…what happened here," he whispered to himself as the leading vehicle slowed down before what appeared to have once been a hotel.

Derek hesitantly left his car, feeling the inside pocket of his trench coat to ensure the revolver was still there, he followed the private.

A series of tents had been set up outside the hotel, all blocked by large soldiers guarding the way, they parted as the private led Derek into the largest of them.

The tent was filled with equipment and makeshift tables, surrounded by officers having a heated argument.

"Sure we took the Esoteric Order's mansion, but there are still hundreds of insurgents across this damned town, we've lost over fifty men already!"

"Our orders were to arrest or nullify all members of this cult!" yelled an elderly general who by the looks of things was in charge. "From what I've seen only those are the ones resisting us, we are not pulling out until all resistance has been…"

Derek's presence in the tent distracted him from the men as he glanced up at his face.

"And who the hell are you?"

"He claims to be an acquaintance of Jack Walters sir!" the private shouted, snapping to attention.

"Derek Carter is the name," he piped in, removing his rain-soaked hat.

Derek could tell immediately he didn't fully trust him; however it seemed his face had a hint of remorse as he glared, though it was hard to tell through the darkness, the tent was not well lit with outside light being the only source.

"I am General Brian Parker, I'm sorry Mr. Carter, I heard what happened to Mr. Walters…he was a good man, from what I've heard of the rumors from those FBI agents, my men and I probably wouldn't still be here were it not for what he has done for us."

"What did he do?" Derek blurted out, causing several of the officers present to glance away, as if they were fearful to say.

Without a word the general waved his hand, signaling everyone present to vacate the tent, the private left in an angry huff followed by the rest until the two of them were alone.

"Mr. Walters was the FBI representative in our operation to take this town, primarily the headquarters of the Esoteric Order of Dagon."

"The Order of what?" Derek asked, though the name sounded familiar from one of Jack's journal entries.

"The cult that runs this town, it was because of them this town cut off all ties with the world over seventy years ago, with Mr. Walters help we got sufficient evidence to warrant a full scale strike against this town. How did you know Mr. Walters?"

"He is my boss, we used to work together for the Boston Police Department, and nowadays we run a detective agency."

Thunder rumbled outside as the general lit a pipe he had kept inside his belt, the initial flash of the match lit the features around his face briefly before enshrouding him in darkness once more.

His face seemed far more decrepit than the privates had been, not from age for Derek assumed he was probably half as old as he looked. Derek could recognize the look of pure terror in a man's face immediately.

"He was a part of the squad we sent to the old smuggling tunnels leading to a back door to the mansion due to….difficulties entering the front gates."

Derek remembered an entry in Jack's journal chronicling attempts to enter a mansion causing insanity to all who tried, however he felt it was best not to mention this to the General.

"No man in that unit has been heard from since, and only one of them found dead, the body was," he choked back the last words, "torn apart."

Derek's throat contorted, causing an unusually loud swallow.

"Mr. Walters, however, found a way and made it through and completed the mission. He somehow stopped whatever voodoo they were using on the doors and we stormed the place…unfortunately the only friendly inside was a kidnapped FBI agent named Mackey, Mr. Walters was gone."

"Where did he go?" Derek asked, slamming his hands on the General's desk, however the echoing sound of the impact didn't even faze him, he continued smoking and resumed speaking.

"It was briefly thought he was picked up by our Cutter Urania which was adrift just off Devil's Reef, however we lost all contact with her several hours later…after a garbled radio signal about sea monsters she hasn't been heard from since."

Lightning struck outside, illuminating the tent briefly once more.

"No one saw or heard from him for almost a day after that, and then…out of the blue, while we were setting up camp here at this hotel, J. Edgar Hoover himself and that Mackey fellow come running from the orders mansion with your Mr. Walters slung over their shoulders. It was the damndest thing I ever saw!"

"He just…reappeared in the mansion?" I cupped my hands together, finally having the good sense to sit down to hear this awful tale.

"Your guess is as good as mine, I'm just telling ya what my men saw, they packed him in a car and sped off, we had no idea what had become of him until a news clipping from Arkham arrived."

As I pondered his story the same private from before came bursting into the tent, panting heavily.

"Sir…" he gave a half-hearted salute. "The proprietor of the hotel has locked himself in the upstairs room, he just shot three of our men and made a run for it, barricaded himself in good!"

"Damn it! I thought he was being restrained!" General Parker shouted, grabbing a rifle. "Get as many men as you can, we need to get him out of that room before he can get dug in any deeper than he already is!"

With another quick salute the private was gone, leaving only the flapping of the entrance to the tent behind.

"Here," the General handing Derek an identical rifle as his. "If you really were a friend to Mr. Walters we can use everyman we can get."

"I only came here to find out what happened to him!" Derek shouted, pushing away the rifle. "I have nothing to do with this…incident you've got going on here!"

"The man who runs this hotel is a man by the name of Charlie Gillman, from what we could tell the nut job killed any non-natives to the town who stayed here and left their hacked up body parts in his backroom."

"And what's that got to do with me?"

"Because Mr. Walters spent his first night in this hotel on the top floor, says so in this sorry excuse for a ledger…if there's anyone who knows what he got himself into in this town….it's that whacko upstairs."

Derek hesitated a moment before shakily taking the rifle from the General's hands.

"You know how to work one of those?"

Derek simply glared back, picking up a clip of rounds from the table he expertly slammed them in and cocked the gun without taking his eyes of the General's.

"I'm fine, let's go pay Mr. Gillman a visit."

**Boy it feels good to be done with this chapter, next up the army storms the Gillman Hotel, what secrets will Derek Carter learn and what horrors will he face? Read and review, I would appreciate any constructive criticism, I hope you have enjoyed it =).**


	3. Raid on the Gillman Motel

**Glad to be back, hope you enjoy the next chapter of horror as Carters joins in storming the Gillman Hotel. **

Gunshots rained through the hall as Derek Carters and the accompanying marines ducked for cover, not all being as lucky.

Glancing around the corner Carters saw bodies of soldiers littered the hall, a single shotgun stuck out of the door at the far end, its user protected by a masse of barricaded furniture.

"Yer kind aren't allowed here!" Shouted the owner of the hotel in a deep, almost guttural voice, Carters almost couldn't understand him through his slurring and bubbling saliva as he spoke.

"Surrender Gillman!" General Parker commanded. "We have another hundred soldiers coming up these stairs, there's nowhere to run!"

The proprietor cackled insanely, his laughs gurgling as they left his mouth, "who said anything about getting away? I got enough ammo in here to take out a good number of you with me; our masters will do the rest, Ia Cthulhu, Ia DAGON!"

Another volley of shells compounded his answer; Derek scarcely pulled his face back in time to avoid them, earning a deep cut on his cheek.

"Damn it! We'll never get him out of there at this rate!"

"Do you have any grenades sir?" Carters shouted, turning towards the General desperately.

"Of course, but I thought you wanted him alive, cornered as he is a grenade would blow him and likely most of us straight to hell."

"Hand me one, I have an idea."

Groaning, Parker unclipped a grenade from his belt, placing it gently into Carters waiting palm.

"Fire in the hole!" Carters shouted, chucking the grenade as hard as he could towards the waiting maniac, all the soldiers including Parker ducked for cover.

Seeing the grenade drop at the very doorstep of his barricades sent Gillman ducking behind them for cover shouting "you damned fool!" Quickly throwing himself onto his belly he placed his hands over his head.

He laid there for several seconds, nothing happened, after a few moments he slowly raised his head confused.

"What's going o-?"

He was responded by the impact of the butt of a rifle into his nose, breaking it.

Carters stood triumphant over the barricades, holding the gun trained at Gillman's bleeding nose, tossing the grenade freely in his hand.

"Note to the wise, just because someone shouts fire in the hole, doesn't necessarily mean they pulled the pin," he couldn't help but grin.

"Damned outsider, why don't you kill me like you have all my brothers?"

"Because I want information, what happened to Jack Walters?"

"Hmmm?" Gillman gruffed, a look of confusion washing over his face.

"Jack Walters stayed here a single night almost two weeks ago, something happened to him in this town and you're going to tell me what!"

The remaining soldiers had finally caught up and stood in the hall, all of their rifles trained on Charlie Gillman.

"Ah," Gillman grinned as his memory returned. "THAT Mr. Walters, aye I remember him. Not as dumb as most outsiders, but twice as foolish."

"What happened to him in that mansion? What did you freaks do to him?" he pushed the rifle barrel into Gillman's face harshly, indenting his skin.

"Don't ask me stranger, I never left this fine establishment, if you want to hear about dear Mr. Walters you better consult the Deep Ones."

"The Deep Ones?" As Derek pushed harder, General Parker motioned for the soldiers to return to their stations, leaving only the three of them together.

"Aye, Mr. Walters went into places you aren't allowed from what I heard, but what happened down there only they know."

"If you are referring to your underwater stronghold then I have some sour news," the general interrupted. "Our submarine the Rhodia torpedoed it out of existence."

"Even if that be true," Gillman snorted. "You cannot kill them; they are immortal, servants of the true gods."

"Where can I speak with them?" Carters demanded, sweat had started pouring from his head, he knew he didn't want to hear more of what this lunatic was saying, yet he needed to hear it.

"Only those of the Marsh bloodline speaks with them, they hold the knowledge of the deep homes and temples of the old ones, that's what you wanted to hear isn't it?"

"Why are you being so cooperative, not that I'm complaining."

"Because it will be your doom, the old ones slumber as we speak, yet should imbeciles like yerself try to find them, their awakening will herald the end of this world and the rebirth of…"

Blood spattered across Derek Carters face as a bullet pierced Gillman's skull, splattering what internal devices it contained across the room, Carters jumped back, spinning around.

General Parker stood at the entranceway, his pistol barrel still smoking, his head was bowed, concealing his eyes beneath his helmet.

"Why did you do that? We had him alive!"

"He wasn't going to tell you anymore…and quite frankly I've heard enough of that preachy filth for a lifetime." The general turned around, taking several steps out the door before stopping once more. "Nah, that's just an excuse…remember that body found from Mr. Walters unit…torn apart…Joe…my son, those monsters killed him, that Gillman was no better than any of the ones who butchered my son!"

He spun around as he stood, revealing his face to Derek, tears streamed down them, eyes wide as they could be, almost unnaturally so, his lips contorted into an unending frown of despair.

"From what the FBI told us, it's likely all the Marsh family members are dead with the exception of Sebastian who is under heavy guard back in Washington, no way you'll ever get to see him."

"If these…deep ones, or old ones I don't care, can explain what happened here…I'm going to find them."

"Go where you must son, but be careful of your curiosity," Parker whispered. "There's a briefcase with copies of documents taken from Marsh's refinery in the command tent, it has all the surviving information on that accursed family."

"What about Innsmouth?"

His body still shaking the General replied, "This town is dead, only about half its populace have any sense of normalcy, but without that cult this town can't function…they may find new homes closer to civilization."

"Thank you sir and I'm sorry about your son."

"He should never have been here, nor should any of us," the General gave a quick yet serious salute to Derek, one the young detective reciprocated…

Watching in fear as the General pointed his pistol towards his own head.

The shot echoed throughout the dark halls of the hotel, the soldiers on the first floor looking hesitantly up, unaware at the events unfolding right above their foreheads…

**Whew, sorry this took so long, as we say our final farewell to Innsmouth Derek Carters sets out once again, to find the deep ones themselves….**


End file.
